


Photographic Evidence

by threerings



Category: Phoenix Wright, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: M/M, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Rock Stars, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 00:45:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threerings/pseuds/threerings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phoenix Wright has a new case that leads him directly to Miles Edgeworth's door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Photographic Evidence

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Megan H. in Yuletide 2007.
> 
> Note: Begins directly after Phoenix Wright 2: Justice for All.

Part 1: Prologue

**March 23, 11:53PM- Prosecutor's Office**

"Edgeworth?" Phoenix Wright knocked on the door again, hesitantly. The door was slightly ajar and opened a bit more at his touch. Phoenix peered around the door to Miles Edgeworth's office, squinting to see through the gloom. "Anybody here?" There was silence for a moment before Phoenix heard a small squeak like the movement of an office chair.

"Edgeworth? Is that you? I've been looking for you. I…well, I had to leave the party a little early and I wanted to talk…to you." Wright moved into the room. The only light in the room came from the large window behind Edgeworth's desk. He could see the outline of the large leather chair against the light from the street. Wright hesitated just inside the doorway. Images of scowling murderers waiting in the dark with nasty blunt objects or deadly daggers flickered through his mind. _This job is getting to me,_ he thought. He took two more steps towards the desk, telling himself the office was probably completely empty anyway. Phoenix had left Maya's celebration not too long after Edgeworth, with lack of sleep as his excuse. He had first gone to the prosecutor's home address, but no one had answered the door and the driveway to the impressive townhouse was empty.

"What do you want, Wright?" Phoenix jumped at the sound of Miles Edgeworth's voice, loud in the silent building.

"Geez. You scared me." Wright stared at the back of the desk chair, which had not moved. "I…just…like I said, I wanted to talk…Is everything alright, Edgeworth?"

"Why wouldn't everything be alright? The guilty have been punished. The day has been won."

"Well, for one thing, you're sitting in your office, in the dark, on a Friday night." Phoenix was reluctant to approach the chair more closely, but he craned his neck to the left and right, trying to catch a glimpse of Edgeworth. "That seems a bit strange, honestly. Although, I don't know if that's really strange for you, I guess. You could spend every Friday night this way."

There was no response for more than a moment. Wright heard Edgeworth exhale a long breath, then the chair swiveled slowly to face him. "It seems strange to me that you are also in my office, in the dark, on a Friday evening. Even more strange when all your friends are throwing you a party across town."

Phoenix could only see half of the other man's face in the dark room, but that half looked rigid, jaw set. Phoenix was used to this expression, but he was used to seeing it from across a courtroom. He tried to hold Edgeworth's gaze, but he eyes moved quickly around the room. He was grateful when they found a lamp on the end table next to the sofa. "Mind if I turn on the light?"

"Be my guest," said Edgeworth. Wright quickly moved to the edge of the sofa, bending to work the switch of the lamp. Light seemed to blaze into the room, momentarily blinding him. He closed his eyes and felt for the arm of the sofa, half-falling into it. Phoenix experimentally opened one eye, then blinked them both, trying to focus on the figure seated behind the desk. When he could finally make out details, he saw Edgeworth looking at him calmly, as if the sudden burst of light into his eyes hadn't bothered him at all. _Typical,_ thought Wright.

And here they were. Bitter rivals turned uneasy allies, facing each other in an abandoned office building, with nothing to say. To admit the truth, Phoenix couldn't really say why he was here, except that he had felt a need to talk with Edgeworth. He ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it up even higher, and tried smiling at the prosecutor. To his surprise, Edgeworth gave him a slight smile in return. This caused Wright to give a nervous laugh.

"So, yeah, anyway. Well, you know how it is. I was at the hotel at the party and then Pearls started in about Maya and me and how we should get married and get a honeymoon suite and I tried to laugh it off but then she kept going and Maya looked embarrassed and can you believe Pearls had made RESERVATIONS? And so I just said I had to get to sleep and left and, umm, thought maybe I should check on you, cause I…just thought…so." _Oh yeah, that sounds just great, Wright. Way to go._

Wright forced himself to look back at Edgeworth and give an apologetic smile, but his smile turned to a real one when he saw Edgeworth was looking at him with friendly amusement. "Yes, I can see how that might have been…awkward. Would you like something to drink?" Edgeworth offered.

"Umm, yeah! You mean an actual drink, not fruit punch?" Edgeworth paused in the act of standing to look confused. "I mean, nothing against Maya, but she's still really a kid, and…yeah I don't get anything alcoholic very often. Maya thinks it's sinful. Or unhealthy. Or bad for the soul. Something like that, at least."

"Not fruit punch." Edgeworth had moved to a cabinet on the far side of the office, which he opened with a key from his pocket. "Will whisky do?"

"Yes. Thanks." Phoenix listened to the sounds of glass on glass as Edgeworth poured out two glasses of whisky. Edgeworth brought the cut crystal glasses forward and handed one to Wright before taking a seat at the opposite end of the sofa. Phoenix took a careful sip of his drink, enjoying the burn of the liquid as it slid down his throat. He opened his eyes without realizing he had even closed them and found Edgeworth watching him intently.

"Good?" the other man asked.

"Yeah," said Wright, turning his body towards Edgeworth, "Really good."

"So," said Edgeworth, with a change in tone, "you said you wanted to talk to me?"

"Oh. Yeah, I did. I mean, I said I did." Wright took another sip of the whisky while he tried to think of what it had been he had wanted to say. "Well, I wanted to say, again, thanks for what you did in court." Edgeworth nodded dismissively at this. "No, really. I realized I haven't always been fair to you, especially recently. And, I did figure out what you meant. About why we do what we do." Phoenix paused again to collect his thoughts. "Our job is to find the truth, whatever that may be. To make sure justice is done, not just to win cases." He looked into the distance. " I had forgotten that." He focused back on Edgeworth. "So, thanks for reminding me." Edgeworth broke away from Wright's gaze to look down at his glass.

"At least one person learned that," he said, seemingly to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing. " Edgeworth paused, then spoke, still looking down, " I…I found Franziska tonight. Followed that tracking signal to the airport. She still had Gumshoe's coat." Phoenix's eyes had gone wide. Edgeworth noticed the defense attorney's expression before looking away again. "I tried to tell her. What I had learned while I was away. About what was really important. She didn't hear me. Wouldn't, I suppose."

Something in the other man's voice made Wright's breath catch. Was this why Edgeworth seemed so gloomy? Why he was sitting here in the dark? Could it be? "Edgeworth, were you and Franziska…?" No, he couldn't finish.

Edgeworth gave a humorless laugh. "No, Wright. We were never lovers." He looked at Wright as if challenging him to ask more about his personal life.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"That's ok." Edgeworth's voice was apologetic. "I think maybe she wanted that, once. I feel some responsibility towards her. That's all."

"Oh." Phoenix took a big gulp of whisky this time. He was feeling very uncomfortable here suddenly. The silence stretched between them and he became aware of a clock ticking out the seconds.

"Wright…" began Edgeworth.

"Call me Phoenix," said Wright, suddenly.

"What?"

"Call me Phoenix. Since, you know, we're friends now. We are, right?" His heart was pounding for no good reason and Phoenix couldn't quite meet the other man's eyes. He settled for looking at Edgeworth's mouth.

"Friends?" Edgeworth stopped and Phoenix couldn't read his face. "Yes, of course, if you think so. We can be friends." Treaties between nations had been pronounced with less seriousness.

"Good! Then call me Phoenix. Outside of court, of course. Or Nick, even, if you want. I mean, Maya started that one, but…I'm getting used to it."

Edgeworth answered Phoenix's crooked smile with one of his own. "Very well…Phoenix. And, of course, you can call me Miles. If you want." Phoenix's smile broke wider across his face.

"Excellent! Miles." He looked perplexed for a moment. "That's a little weird, isn't it?"

"You think my name is weird?"

"No! That's not…I mean, just, I've never heard anyone call you Miles. So, it's yeah, it's a little weird, to hear, is all." Wright shifted his weight on the sofa and, trying to force himself to relax, leaned against the back. He noticed then that Edgeworth had draped his arm across the back of the sofa, his fingers now almost reaching Wright's shoulder. Phoenix glanced quickly from Edgeworth's hand to his face before looking away again. He felt Edgeworth let his arm fall back down into his lap.

"Better than Edgy-poo, at any rate!" said Phoenix with laughter. Edgeworth looked shocked for one moment before he too started to laugh.

The two attorneys sat there looking at each other, both of them overcome with laughter at the absurdity of life. Phoenix remembered all of the cases, the witnesses, the testimony. He thought of all the times he had cursed Edgeworth and was suddenly very glad that he could sit here with him and share a joke.

After their laughter had slowed, Phoenix said, "You don't laugh enough." Miles Edgeworth looked at him, curiously. "I mean it. You should laugh more. It makes you human."

"I've always been human, Wright," he winced. "Phoenix, sorry."

"'Sokay…Miles." Phoenix smiled at him. "Anyway, I should probably go. While I can still drive."

"Alright." Edgeworth stood up quickly, serious again. Phoenix stood as well, placing his almost empty glass back on the table.

"Well," he said.

"Yes," said Edgeworth.

"Have a good night." Phoenix shrugged his shoulders and turned towards the door.

"Phoenix?" said Edgeworth behind him.

"Yeah?" he answered, turning back.

"Thanks," said Edgeworth, "For coming by."

"No problem! See you later." Phoenix left the office quickly then, his speed increasing as he made his way to the parking garage. He couldn't place the source, but he felt unsettled. _ Maybe it's the whisky. I need to clear my head._ As he drove his car into the cool night, the image of Miles Edgeworth, laughing helplessly filled his mind, and he smiled.

 

Part II: Investigation

**Three Months Later…June 27, 9:33AM, Wright and Co Law Offices**

Phoenix Wright had just settled into his office for the morning, looking forward to another relaxing day working the crossword and watching TV, when suddenly,

*beep, beep, beep*

his cell phone went off. "Wright," he answered.

"Nick! Oh my god, you've got to get down here!"

"Maya? What in the world are you up to?"

"Nick, haven't you seen the news? It's Rick Sextant! HE'S BEEN MURDERED!"

"Who's Rick Sextant?"

"Nick! What do you mean, who's Rick Sextant? THE Rick Sextant! The singer for The Men From Mars! And Lars Fine, his bass player, has been arrested!"

"Well, I've never heard of them. " Phoenix didn't think it was fair that Maya was always criticizing him for not knowing the latest popular stars. He did have a job, after all. Even if right now that job seemed to consist of waiting for a client who never came…

"Nick! You've got to come down here and get Lars Fine to let you represent him! We can't miss a case this big!"

"But, Maya, we don't even know if he did it or not!"

"Well, then get down here and let's ask him, ok?" Nick couldn't argue with Maya when she got like this.

"Ok, ok. I'll be there in half an hour."

"HALF AN HOUR! Nick, someone else could get this case first! Get a move on!" Maya hung up, and Phoenix was glad. _Maya is great,_ he thought,_ but she sure likes to order me around._

**June 27, 9:55AM- Detention Center**

Twenty-two minutes later, Phoenix Wright walked into the detention center. Maya Fay was waiting for him in the midst of the crowd of reporters, photographers, fans, and general citizenry in the lobby. Wright thought he saw a bright red poof of hair moving towards them above the crowd and steered Maya through the door to the visiting area as quickly as possible. A flash of his attorney's badge got him escorted into one of the interview cells, and shortly after, a young man with long, scraggly brown hair appeared on the other side of the glass.

"Umm, I think there's been a mistake," said Phoenix, "We wanted to speak with Lars Fine, the successful musician."

"Dude. That's me, isn't it?" answered the man in the torn clothing.

"That IS him, Nick," hissed Maya, "What's your problem?"

"That's him?" responded Nick in a whisper. "He looks like a…homeless person."

"That's just Fashion, Nick. Really," said Maya with a roll of her eyes.

"Sorry, umm, Mr. Fine," started Phoenix. "My name is Phoenix Wright and I'm a defense attorney."

"Finnelli."

"What?"

"Mr. Finelli. Larry Finnelli is my real name," said the fashionably torn rock star glumly. "Lars Fine is just a stage name. It was Rick's idea. He thought we needed to sound cool. Guess Rick Sextant was already a cool enough name for him. Stupid dead bastard."

"Umm, right, ok, Mr. Finnelli. So, did you kill that, umm, gentleman, then?" Wright really kinda hoped he said 'Yes.' He could already tell this one would be frustrating.

"Hmph. That's what they say, right? BASSIST MURDERS SINGER! ROCK N'ROLL HOMICIDE! LARS IS NOT FINE! Stupid papers." Mr. Fine, Finnelli, that is, continued to mutter to himself under his breath.

"So you're saying you're guilty, Mr. Finnelli?" asked Wright. "Cause if you are, I won't represent you."

"What? Represent? Are you an agent?" Phoenix gritted his teeth. He really hated celebrities.

"I'm a defense attorney, Mr. Finnelli, here to defend you, if you are really innocent. If you don't want my services, I'll leave."

"NO! Dude, don't go!" The bass player seemed to be looking at Nick for the first time. "I didn't kill Rick, man! I promise. Please help me!"

"Oh, Nick! See?" interjected Maya.

"Fine. Then I guess you'd better tell me what happened, and I'll see what I can do." Nick settled into the uncomfortable chair grudgingly provided by the City's Finest.

"Ok, so, I just went over to Rick's place last night, you know dude? Cause we had a show today and I wanted to check on him. I mean, he hasn't been doing so well…" Lars paused, "Anyway, the front door was open, right, and I just went in. And I looked for him in a few rooms and then I got to his office, and there was a light, and I just went in and there he was! He was passed out right there at his desk! And I thought… well, I thought he might be…sick…or something. So I was trying to wake him up. And then that bitch Tammy comes right through the door and starts screaming! She starts screaming that I killed him! And then the police showed up and I thought everything was straightened out that it was an…accident, you know, until this morning when they fucking arrested me."

The supposed rock star trailed off. Wright's head was spinning.

"Ok, so, who's this Tammy?"

"Oh, hmph. She's Rick's 'girlfriend.'"

"Ooo, Nick, I read about her," Maya interrupted. "She used to be this big model, but she gave up her career to be with Rick Sextant. They were really in love." Maya smiled dreamily. Nick contemplated that Maya might need a boyfriend. One that isn't on TV or in a magazine. _Or me,_ he added.

"Ok, so, you said everyone thought the death was an accident? But now they don't?"

"Well, yeah," said Lars, shiftily. "I mean, you know, like an…accidental…well, overdose."  
"Drugs, you mean?" Phoenix was started to understand.

"Well, umm, maybe, you know."

"Mr. Finnelli. If I'm going to represent you, you have to tell me the truth."

"Okay. Yeah, Rick was kinda into drugs. So that's what I thought when I saw him lying there."

"But it wasn't drugs?"

"Dude, I don't know! They said he was murdered! And they think I did it! I didn't freaking do it, man!"

"Ok, calm down," Phoenix said. _Why are all my clients always so upset? Oh, right, it could be the arrest for murder._ "I'll look into this case and see what I can do. You just try to stay calm, ok?" Wright got ready to leave.

"Oh, and try not to talk to any reporters, ok? It could hurt your case."

**June 27, 10:47 AM- Home of Rick Sextant, Office**

"Hey, pal! Over here!"

"Hey, Detective Gumshoe! Why am I not surprised?" The scruffy detective looked more than a bit out of place in this particular crime scene. Wright had talked his way past the yellow tape and into Rick Sextant's home office. The room was dominated by a steel and glass desk, the walls lined with shelves holding thousands of cds. Several guitars were propped up in stands around the room. Did Rick Sextant even play guitar?

"Surprised? 'Course you're not surprised. I'm a homicide detective, after all. But I'm surprised that I'm not surprised to see you here, pal! Must be other lawyers in town, but you're always the one who shows up."

"That's 'cause Nick's the best! Right, Nick?" asked Maya.

_Or because you're always making me take these celebrity cases,_ Nick thought. "Umm, sure. Anyway, what happened here, Detective?"

"Victim was found slumped over his desk by his girlfriend, Tammy Linder. A Mr. Finelli was standing over him in a threatening manner. Mr. Sextant was already dead."

"Hey, what do you mean by that, 'threatening manner'? "

"Yeah, Lars said he found him already dead," said Maya.

"Look, pal, I'm just telling it like I heard it. Autopsy report shows he died between 11PM and Midnight, due to lethal doses of morphine and arsenic."

"Morphine and arsenic? Hmm...so they're sure it was murder, then?"

"Well, s'far as I know, not a lot of kids take arsenic for fun. Though I wouldn't put much past this fellow."

"What do you mean, Detective?" Phoenix asked.

Gumshoe shot a sideways look at Maya. "Nothin. Just…stuff I heard...nevermind." Nick was pretty sure it wasn't nothing, but decided to let it go for now. "Anyway, that's pretty much it. Simple case, really."

"That's IT? What about my client? What made you arrest him, other than he was here last night? He said the cops showed up this morning with no warning and just took him away."

"Well, we didn't go there to arrest him, exactly, but after we found the murder weapon in his apartment…"

"The WHAT?" yelled Wright.

"The WHAT?" yelled Maya.

"The murder weapon. Didn't you know? Larry Finelli had a bottle of morphine and a syringe in his apartment. We found it this morning, all wrapped up in a paper bag in his coat pocket."

"Nick! Lars never mentioned that! You don't think he did it, do you?"

Phoenix considered that for a moment. "I don't think so…but maybe we need to look into this a little more."

**June 27, 11:35 AM- Home of Rick Sextant, Second Floor**

 

Phoenix and Maya left the detective to guard his crime scene from any more intruders and casually wandered up the stairs to the second floor of the lavish house, nodding to several bored looking police personnel on their way. At the top of the stairs, they could hear music coming from one of the rooms at the end of the hall. Nick moved closer and eased the door of the room open. A blond woman was slumped in a huge chair with her head in her hands.

"Excuse me…"

"What? Who are you?" The woman looked like she'd been crying, but her face changed from sadness to anger in a split second. "Look! I've told you people all I know! You've got that lousy, greedy, murdering bastard in jail already, haven't you?"

"Umm, yeah, I guess they do."

"Well, what do you need me for then? And when are you going to get out of my house?!" _I'm guessing this is the girlfriend then, Tammy Linder._

"Err, Ma'am. I…umm…that is…my name is Phoenix Wright. I'm a defense attorney and I'm investigating your…umm…Mr. Sextant's death."

"Defense attorney? You mean you're HIS lawyer?" _Why do people always say lawyer like it's a bad word?,_ wondered Phoenix.

"Well, yes, I'm representing Lars Fine, but I really just want to get the truth…"

"Then the truth is, Mr. Lawyer, that Lars murdered my poor Ricky! I saw him! He was standing right over him! And I knew something like this might happen, ever since Ricky said he wanted to break up the band!"

"The Men from Mars were breaking up?" gasped Maya, "I didn't hear anything about that!"

"Well, you wouldn't have, would you? He just told the band the night before last. He hadn't even decided for sure, really." Tammy looked tired. Her hair was rumpled, and Phoenix hoped it wasn't normally that large. Her eyes were red, and smears of make-up ran down her face from the tears. He felt sorry for her, and decided to excuse her attitude as understandable in the circumstances.

"So you think that's why Larry, I mean Lars, would want to kill Mr. Sextant?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, why else? Who would want to kill Ricky? He was the sweetest, most brilliant, sexiest…"

"Yes, anyway, but would that really be enough reason to kill him? It's not like that would keep the band together."

"Lars was really mad when Ricky announced he was thinking of retiring. He stormed out of the studio and everything! I'm sure it was him!"

_Oh this is going to look great on the witness stand…_

**June 27, 12:20 PM-Monumental Music, Office of the President**

"Mr. Wright? Ms. Fey? Mr. Sullivan will see you now." The secretary managed to communicate how very much trouble their visit was, as well as how much more important Mr. Sullivan was than his visitors in those few words.

Phoenix Wright pushed on the heavy door leading to the office of Guy Sullivan, President of Monumental Music, Inc. And then he pushed harder. The door really was very heavy. Maya looked at him as if he were goofing off. Phoenix sighed and did his best to hold the door for her.

The office they entered was larger than most people's homes. Phoenix wasn't sure at first glance if there was anyone there, but he finally located a figure seated at a massive desk on the other side of the room. The far wall was actually an enormous window, looking over the traffic and the other shiny buildings of downtown. In between the entrance and the desk there was…well, a lot of floor to cross.

"Mr. Sullivan? Thank you for seeing me." Nick hurried towards the desk. "My name is Phoenix Wright. I'm the defense attorney for Mr. Lars Fine?"

"Of course!" As Wright drew closer, he could see that Guy Sullivan was a round man in his fifties. He wore a large but sleek grey suit with a dark pinstripe, the effect only slightly marred by the fuchsia shirt he wore underneath. The next thing that struck Nick was the man's hair: strikingly blond, tall, and wavy. Nick forced himself to lower his eyes from the hair to make eye contact as he shook the large man's hand. "What a mess! It's a sad day for Monumental Music, losing a star as bright as Rick Sextant. Especially now. Still. It's on the cover of every paper and magazine today!"

"That's true, Nick. See? I bought this copy of Beat the Leopard from the stand outside. 'Sextant Slain! Fine Fingered!' It's a nice picture." Maya held the magazine out for him to see. Wright took it and quickly shoved it in his pocket.

"Right. So, Mr. Sullivan, I assume The Men From Mars were pretty successful for your company, then?"

"Naturally, my boy! Their last album went platinum in three weeks. Remarkable numbers."

"They were working on a new album, weren't they? Is it finished? Will it still be released?" asked Maya.

"Mmm. Well, I don't know. I don't know. We'll have to see, sweetheart," said Sullivan with a wink.

 

"Mr. Sullivan. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about Rick Sextant and Larry, I mean, Lars?"

"No. Good right ahead. Naturally."

"Thank you. What can you tell me about Mr. Sextant?"

"Rick? Oh, well, I always knew Rick had the gift. You know, star power. That boy could captivate anyone from across a room. Knew he would make it the first night I met him. We put the band together after that. Rick told me what he wanted, and I found a way to make it happen." Sullivan smiled at his memories.

"Really? You put The Men From Mars together?" asked Maya.

"Of course! Rick was working solo in those days, just him and his guitar. I knew for him to be really big, he needed to R-O-C-K! Rock, you know."

"Umm, sure. Anyway, so what was Rick like? You seem like you knew him well," said Phoenix.

"Yes. Of course. Well. I did. When he was first getting started, I think we were friends. But, more recently? Rick could be a closed book."

"A closed book?"

"Rick…he had become a little…distant. Mysterious. I don't know why. I sometimes got the feeling he was unhappy."

"Unhappy? About what?"

"Well. I couldn't really say. I know there were some disagreements within the band. And the new album wasn't going the way he wanted." Phoenix wasn't sure if Sullivan was telling everything he knew.

"Is it true Rick was planning on breaking up the band?" he asked.

"Oh. Well. I don't know if 'planning' is really the word I would use. He was certainly…considering it."

"And was this common knowledge?"

"No…no. Like I said, I'm not sure Rick had really made up his mind. And there are contractual obligations to consider, of course."

"What do you mean, contractual obligations? Do you mean Mr. Sextant wouldn't have been able to break up The Men From Mars?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure at the moment. Honestly, I've been so shocked with everything that I haven't bothered to look. It's possible that some agreement with Monumental Music would have to be reached first. As it is, of course, it's moot."

"Hmm, ok. What about Mr. Finelli?" he asked.

"Oh, Lars, eh?" began Mr. Sullivan, "I am shocked, I can tell you, shocked, that he would ever go so far. Perhaps he wasn't happy with Rick's…decisions, but I never would have thought he'd go as far as murder! Premeditated too! With the injection to make it look like overdose…he must be unbalanced."

"Unbalanced?" squeaked Maya.

"Well, not well, at least." Sullivan shrugged. "I can't say I was ever close to Lars. He was always just the bass player. Just goes to show." The businessman looked at his watch then. "Now, if there's nothing else, I'm afraid I have lots of meetings this afternoon…"

"Just one more thing, Mr. Sullivan," said Phoenix. "The other member of the band, the drummer?"

"Skar? Yes. Yes. You'll want to talk to him, I guess, not that I know what he could tell you about it. You know what they say about drummers… Heh. Not sure where he is right now. If I see him, I'll tell him you're looking." With that, the large man with the striking hair stood and Phoenix and Maya took the hint to leave.

 

**June 27, 1:43PM- Monumental Music, Entrance Lobby**

"Nick!" Maya grabbed Phoenix's arm. "Nick, that's him! That's Skar, the drummer for Men From Mars!" The man Maya indicated was standing against the wall of the elevator bank arguing with another young man. They were both dressed in ripped jeans and T-shirts, talking intently about something.

"Excuse me, Mr…Skar?" asked Phoenix. The young man startled at this, breaking off in mid-sentence, his hands still held in the air from his conversational gesticulations.

"Yes?" he asked, annoyed.

"Hello. My name is Phoenix Wright…"

"You don't look like a fan."

"Oh, he's not a fan, he's a lawyer," explained Maya. "I'm the fan."

"Right. Well, what would you like signed? Dudley and I were just discussing some vital aspects of string theory and…"

"Excuse me, Mr…Skar, but I would really like to ask you a few questions," Wright interrupted. "I'm representing Mr. Finelli in court tomorrow, and…"

"Oh! You're Lars' lawyer?" Skar's attitude changed and he leant forward eagerly. "You should've said. I'm sorry, too many reporters and fans buzzing around right now. Dudley, we'll have to pick this up some other time." The other man turned to go, muttering something that sounded like '…know 'bout Planck's constant…'

"Mr. Wright, was it?" asked Skar. "Good to meet you. My name's Skip Parker, naturally Skar's the stage name. Do you mind if we take a walk? It's more private outside."

"Sure," said Phoenix.

**June 27, 2:13PM- Monumental Music, parking lot**

"So, Mr. Parker, what can you tell me about Rick Sextant's murder?"

"Hmm, it's mysterious. Very puzzling. First off, I can tell you it wasn't Lars. Never in a billion years would Lars have murdered Rick. He had no motive, for starters!"

"Really? What about the idea that Lars was upset about Rick breaking up the band…was that true?"

Skar shook his long scraggly hair. "Doesn't mean anything. Rick was always threatening to break up the band. 'Specially when he would get drunk or…" He looked at Maya, who smiled at him, "…high, you know."

"So, Rick did…use drugs? Everyone says they thought it was an overdose at first."

"Yeah, well, 'course, Rick liked to party. No, I mean, he really did. Rick was in it for the fame, no doubt. Drugs, booze, sex, that was Rick."

"And you and Lars? You weren't in it for all that?"

"No. Well, not me. Pure music lover, me." Skip Parker, aka Skar, looked wistful for a moment. "I really wanted The Men From Mars to be more experimental, you know, but, well, Rick knew what sold. Apparently, it was sex and drugs and booze."

"And Lars?" Phoenix asked again.

"Well, Lars partied some, too. He had a good time. Girls were his thing. Lots of girls."

"You said Rick had a lots of girls, too? Not just Tammy Linder?"

"Well, I don't really…know, you know. Well, sure, sometimes, but…I said 'sex', Mr. Wright, not 'girls.'"

Phoenix glanced at Maya, who met his eyes for a moment in confusion. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean, Ski…Skar."

Skip Parker looked uncomfortable, as if he wasn't sure he should be saying anything. "Look, just…not always girls, right? Rick. Rick had a lot of secrets. He, he wasn't too open with anyone, including the band. There was more to Rick's life than anyone knew."

"Mr. Parker, if you know something, some reason Rick might have been killed, I need you to tell me." Skar continued to hesitate. "For Lars," finished Wright.

"Alright. It's, there were always rumors with Rick, about his past, how he got signed…I don't really know anything definite, but I know he was hiding something. He was always going off alone, would disappear for the night, or a coupla days. And then…he never wanted anyone to come into his space."

"His space?"

"Yeah, like his office at his house. Had the place deadbolted for no good reason. One time I was over there, practicing, you know, and I went looking for him. He was in his office with his guitar. Soon as I walked in, he banged on that guitar and jumped up like I'd walked in on him in the bathroom or something."

"He was playing the guitar?"

"No. Just, had the guitar on his lap. He was always real weird. Weird about that guitar, like it was made of gold. His guitar case was password protected, if you'll believe it."

"Password protected?" asked Nick.

"Yeah. It had a special digital screen and a keyboard. Custom." Skar shook his head. "Look, I loved Rick like a brother. I can't believe he's dead. But the man had his secrets and was more than a bit paranoid about them. If someone killed him, it was because of something Rick was hiding, bet you anything."

"Thanks, Mr. Parker. I appreciate the information." Phoenix shook the drummer's hand.

"No problem. Lars didn't do this. Somebody else is behind this."

"And I'm going to find out who," Wright replied.

 

**June 27, 3:45PM-Home of Rick Sextant, Office**

"So, Nick, are we looking for Rick Sextant's secrets? Ooo, that'd look good on the cover of Beat the Leopard. Rick Sextant's Secrets! Expose, page 3!"

"Page 3, not page 1?" asked Phoenix idly.

"Nick, come on, the first two pages are all ads!"

"Sorry. I guess I'm not really up to date on my reading…" Phoenix looked around the shiny office, his eyes coming to rest on the far corner, where several guitars were propped up in stands. He walked over to examine them more closely. Maya followed him, looking over his shoulder.

"Wow. I didn't know guitars came in leopard-print!" she said.

"I think if you're Rick Sextant, guitars come however you want them," said Phoenix. "Apparently, guitar cases do." He looked from one brightly colored, shining guitar to another. "Maya, what color was Rick Sextant's main guitar? The one he played onstage?"

"Hmm, I don't know, I never saw him perform. Oh! I guess I won't ever get to now! Isn't that sad, Nick?"

"Sure. Well, which one do you think it is?" asked Nick, redirecting Maya back to the task at hand.

"Maybe the…pink one?" offered Maya.

"I guess I'll have to ask Lars, or Skar. Unless…" Wright thought for a moment. "Where's the case? The special case that he always kept locked so nothing would happen to his best guitar?"

"I don't see it anywhere," said Maya.

"But if that was his most prized possession, or if he had some secret hidden in there, wouldn't he keep it in this room? The room he hated for anyone else to go into?" Phoenix searched the room as he spoke. In desperation, he started to peer behind the furniture, rifling the contents of the shelves, and lifting the posters to look behind them.

"Ooo. Do you think he has a hidden safe in the wall?" asked Maya.

"Well, no, not really. But, it's worth a shot." As he said this, Wright flicked one of the large Men From Mars posters to the side, causing it to swing back and forth. He stared at it for a second, not quite believing what he saw. He looked back at Maya.

"Oh my God, Nick! There's a door back there!"

"Oh, good. You see it too. Thought I might be losing it for a second. Help me take this poster down." They struggled with the lightweight but bulky frame that extended from the floor almost to the ceiling. Behind it was a perfectly ordinary wooden door. _Ordinary except for the fact that someone put a giant rock poster in front of it,_ Phoenix thought.

The door was slightly recessed into the wall and had no knob. It had a small handle set into the wood, and a lock above it. Sure it would be locked, Wright gave the door a half-hearted pull, shocked when it opened immediately.

"Well, that was…easier than I expected." He muttered. On the other side of the door was a small room, a closet, really. It was bare except for two items. One was a moderately sized floor safe. Phoenix groaned. The safe had a digital keypad on it. He reached forward with a grimace to try the handle. Maybe someone who didn't lock his secret room didn't lock his safe either. Nope. No such luck. The safe was locked tight. The other object in the room really interested Wright more than the safe. It was a stainless steel guitar case, set with the same sort of keypad. He pulled the case from the closet into the main room.

"Is it locked?" asked Maya.

"Of course it's locked. And we don't have the password." Phoenix was feeling tired of this case already.

"Did you check?" Maya flopped down on the floor in front of the case and began working at the latches. There were several metallic clicks and then a beeping noise.

ENTER PASSWORD, flashed the screen on the case.

"Great. We'll never get in now," moaned Phoenix. Meanwhile, Maya was typing something on the keypad. She finished, hit enter, and sat back to watch the case pop open smoothly.

"MAYA! HOW DID YOU DO THAT?"

"Easy. It said ENTER PASSWORD, so I did. I typed 'password' and it worked!" Phoenix stared at her openmouthed.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"What?"

"Just let me see." Phoenix moved Maya to one side so he could kneel in front of the miraculously open case. Inside was a scratched and dented electric guitar. It looked nothing like it's shining, glittery cousins in the corner. "Is that duct tape?" Phoenix wondered. He took the guitar from it's case and turned it over and over in his hands. It didn't look like something someone would go to so much trouble to protect. _Even if he really loved this guitar, was all the technology and silly passwords necessary?_ Wright examined the guitar more closely, running his hands along the grain of the wood. Finally, his fingers found one spot that felt different from the rest. He pushed at it, tried to move it, and finally dug his fingernails into the scratches surrounding it. A satisfying *click* was his reward.

"YES! There's something here, Maya." A small panel of the wood slid out from the back of the guitar, exposing a secret compartment. Inside, fitted to the space perfectly, was a small black notebook. Wright quickly pried it out and opened it.

The notebook contained handwritten columns. The first column held the date, the next contained dollar amounts. After that came a column of words with numbers following them. The last column was a series of indecipherable numbers and letters.

"What is that? Is it in code?" asked Maya.

"Yeah, I guess. It looks like a record of payments. Something about these words is familiar. Wait a minute…" Wright studied the third column closely, flipping pages back and forth. Many of these words were familiar. They were street names! "He was sending payments…to different addresses?"

"Who was Rick paying?"

"I'm not sure…some of these amounts are thousands of dollars. And the same addresses repeat over and over. These dates go back years!" Phoenix was silent for a moment as he read the entries in the black book.

"If Rick had been paying that much money for years, wouldn't he be broke by now?" wondered Maya.

"Yes. He would," answered Phoenix. "But he's not. Because I don't think he was paying anything. I think people were paying him. And who do lots of people pay a lot of money to in secret, Maya?"

"Drug dealers?"

"Hmm, actually that's not bad. I never thought of that. I guess if we found drugs in that safe, you'd be proven right." He sounded a little crestfallen at the thought. "I was thinking of a blackmailer!"

"Blackmailer? Oh, Nick, you really think Rick Sextant was a blackmailer?!"

"I think it would explain a lot. His money, when the other band members don't seem to have nearly as much. His secrecy and fanatical privacy. And maybe…his sudden rise to fame." Wright suddenly wondered what Guy Sullivan's address was. That was something to check into. Just as soon as he'd checked on that other disturbing fact.

"Maya, I want you to do something for me."

"Sure, Nick. What?"

"I want you to go back to the office and look up the addresses of everyone involved in this case. Everyone we've talked to or heard of. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, of course. Where are you going?"

"Oh, I thought I'd talk to Gumshoe about this safe. See if the police can open it." Phoenix lied.

"Good idea. I'll get going then."

"Me too," said Phoenix, eyes focused on the notebook in his hand.

Phoenix gave a sigh once Maya had disappeared from the office. There was one fact that would not leave his mind: the fact that among the mysterious entries in Rick Sextant's little black book was one which contained the phrase "Ravenwood 815." It echoed in Wright's mind, because he thought he knew what it meant. Ravenwood was a street, and 815 was a house number. And he knew who lived at that number: Miles Edgeworth. _Could Edgeworth be connected to this case somehow? What possible connection could he have to Sextant?_ And even more disturbing was the implication of the dollar amount next to the entry. "$350/month." Could it really be blackmail? Phoenix couldn't rest until he knew. And so he went immediately to 815 Ravenwood.

 

**June 27th, 5:32 PM- 815 Ravenwood, Home of Miles Edgeworth**

"Wright?" said Edgeworth as he opened the door. "What in the world are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out investigating, trying with all your natural desperation to find evidence to exonerate your client?"

"Can I come inside, Edgeworth?" Wright responded quietly.

"I'm not sure about this. Do you think it's proper for the defense and the prosecution to meet the night before a case?" Edgeworth said with a smile that Phoenix was familiar with from the courtroom. It meant the prosecutor thought he had the upper hand.

"Miles. I need to speak with you. Now. Tonight. Before tomorrow's trial." Apparently Wright's serious tone got through to the other man, as his smile faded. Edgeworth held the door open and Wright moved quickly inside. After a moment's hesitation, Edgeworth led Phoenix into the room to the right. It was lined with books and featured an old-fashioned wooden desk. It reminded Wright of the prosecutor's office, actually. Edgeworth sat behind the desk and Wright tried to make himself comfortable on the chair opposite him.

"So. What is so pressing that you must come to my home at this hour of night to ask me about it? I assume it has to do with the murder of Mr. Sextant." Wright touched the pocket of his jacket containing Sextant's black book before standing up quickly and beginning to pace. Edgeworth continued to watch him impassively.

"It's . . .well . . . Look, Edgeworth, did you know the victim?" Wright finally asked, willing the prosecutor to answer honestly and settle this now. To his chagrin, Edgeworth went pale and did not speak. After several seconds in which Wright gave him his best intimidating stare, Edgeworth spoke.

"What causes you to ask?" His tone was cold and Phoenix involuntarily sighed.

"I have a…some evidence that points to a connection between you."

"I'd like to see this evidence."

"Ha. I'll bet you would." Phoenix laughed, "This isn't about winning in the courtroom, Edgeworth. This is bigger, and I think you know it."

"I don't know what you mean," Edgeworth said.

"I'm giving you the chance to explain this to me… one friend to another. But if you won't tell me the truth, it'll have to come out in court." Edgeworth met Phoenix's eyes and held his gaze for a long while.

"You're bluffing. I don't believe you," Edgeworth concluded. "You're trying to pull the same thing here that you do in court. You're trying to force a confession. What exactly do you expect me to confess, Wright?" His voice rose as the first emotion showed in his face. "That I'm the murderer? Do you really think I killed Rick Sextant? Is that what you expect me to say?"

"No! Of course I don't!" Wright slapped the desk with his hand, causing Edgeworth to sit back in his chair. "I don't believe you would murder anyone. Haven't we been through this? But, you do have something to hide. You had a connection to the victim. And I know what that connection is!"

Edgeworth had gone silent and stony again. He did not meet Phoenix's eyes this time. In fact, Wright was convinced this was a sign of fear. He had seen Edgeworth look scared before. He could never make eye contact. Wright took a breath to calm himself and sat down so he was on a level with the other man.

"He was blackmailing you, wasn't he?" he asked softly. Edgeworth turned his head, avoiding Phoenix's eyes still further. Enough of an admission for Wright. "What for? What did he have on you?"

Now Edgeworth looked at him, hesitantly. "You…then you don't know." Was that relief in his voice? Or just sadness?

"No. I don't know the details," admitted Wright. "But whatever it was, you were paying him $350 dollars every month to keep him quiet. What could be so bad?" Edgeworth gave him a dark look.

"Wright, this is my professional career you're playing with."

"Your career? But what…? Something from before, at the prosecutor's office? Evidence tampering, witness tampering? I know how you used to be."

"Nothing that simple," said Edgeworth. "This is something you don't need to know, Wright. Leave it."

"How can I just leave it?" Wright stood again, raising his voice. "Lars Fine's life is on the line! He's my client! And I find out Rick Sextant was a blackmailer? This changes everything! You must have seen all along that this case wasn't as simple as it seems? How many people must have had a motive for murdering him? Including yourself! How could you not have said a word? You should not be prosecuting this case!" Phoenix found himself in a familiar courtroom pose, finger pointing at Edgeworth. He expected the prosecutor to shout back at him, to object or something. Instead, the other man remained seated, silent.

"Edgeworth?"

"Get out, Wright," Edgeworth said. "Get out of my house."

Phoenix didn't know what to do. Edgeworth's manner clearly said he would not discuss anything further. Frustrated, Wright quickly stormed from the house. As the door slammed behind him and he walked off down the street he became worried. _Why? Why won't he talk to me? He's leaving me no choice but to present this in court, and to implicate him. If he would just talk to me, maybe I could avoid that…_

 

Part III: Trial

**June 28, 9:59 AM- District Court, Courtroom No. 3**

 

"Court is now in session. Prosecutor Edgeworth, are you ready?"

"Yes, of course, your honor. The prosecution is ready." Edgeworth was his usually collected self, but he had not looked once at Phoenix Wright.

"Mr. Wright?" asked the Judge.

"The defense is ready, your honor."

"Good, prosecution, your opening statement."

"This case is a simple one. In fact, the evidence is overwhelming. The prosecution will show that the defendant had motive, means, and opportunity to murder Mr. Rick Sextant, and that multiple pieces of evidence have been found to prove the defendant's guilt. Our first witness will be the detective in charge of the case."

"Detective Gumshoe, you are the lead detective on this investigation, is that correct?" asked Edgeworth.

"Yes, sir, that's absolutely correct."

"Please tell the court about the crime."

"Yes, sir. Right. The victim was Rick Sextant. The autopsy report shows he was killed by a combination of morphine and arsenic, in lethal doses. Time of death was between 1AM and 2AM. Victim was found by his girlfriend at approximately 2:05AM. He was at his desk and the defendant was found leaning over him in a threatening manner."

"Very good, detective. And what happened upon the arrival of the police?" asked Edgeworth. Gumshoe cleared his throat.

"Well, sir, at first it was assumed that the victim died of an accidental overdose. It happens to rock stars. We found drug paraphernalia at the scene. Anyway, it was the next day that we went to the defendant's apartment for questioning and found the incriminating evidence. We found a syringe and a bottle of arsenic-laced morphine in the defendant's coat pocket. He was arrested on the spot."

"Thank you, detective. As you can see, your honor, this case is very clear," finished Edgeworth.

"Yes, it does seem like it was the defendant who killed him. Mr. Wright? Do you need to cross-examine this witness?"

"Of course, your honor!" Wright wondered why the judge even asked anymore.

Wright cleared his throat before beginning his cross-examination. "Detective Gumshoe. You said that when the victim's girlfriend found the body, Mr. Finelli was already there, correct?"

"Yes, that's what she said."

"And you said he was leaning over the victim in a "threatening manner." What do you mean by that?"

"Oh. Well, that's what she said. The girlfriend. She said, 'threatening.'"

"So, you don't know if he was really threatening or just checking to see if the victim was alright?"

"No, I guess I don't know. I didn't see it after all."

"Good," said Wright. "You said you found drug paraphernalia at the scene. What do you mean by that?"

"Well, we found several syringes and a half-ounce of marijuana."

"So you didn't find any morphine or arsenic at the scene?"

"No, pal. Just like I said."

"And, if I'm correct, you don't inject marijuana, is that right?"

"No. I don't think so, but what some kids do, I'll never understand."

"Right. Anyway. Didn't you conduct a search of the crime scene on the night of the incident?"

"Of course we did. I know my job!"

"I'm sure you do, Detective. So, naturally, you searched the witnesses for incriminating evidence?"

"Ah! Yes, sir, we did! We searched the defendant and the girlfriend and we didn't find anything."

"So, then," started Wright, smiling, "How is it possible that the next day, the murder weapon was found in Mr. Finelli's pocket? Did you forget to look there?"

"Objection!" shouted Edgeworth, "It's not the police's job to explain why everything is the way it is. The facts are the facts! That bottle and syringe were found in the possession of the defendant!"

"Objection!" shouted Wright immediately. "If Mr. Finelli was searched and didn't have the poison on him just after the murder, why would he have it the next day? Unless someone was trying to frame him for the murder!" Edgeworth glared at Wright from across the room, but Phoenix was strangely satisfied by that. It felt normal, at least.

"Mr. Wright. Do you have any evidence that your client was framed for the murder of Mr. Sextant?" asked the Judge.

Wright paused. Did he really have evidence of that? He knew it was true, but… "No, your honor. I don't have evidence at this time. I would like to question the witness further."

"Very well, Wright, but I'm warning you to be more careful with your claims in the future."

"Yes, your honor." That was a close one. "Detective Gumshoe. Can you tell me what it was that made you search Mr. Finelli on the day after the crime?"

"Oh, umm, yeah. Well, we had a tip."

"A tip?"

"Yeah. Someone called the station and left an anonymous tip. They said to search Lars Fine's apartment and we would find what we were looking for," Detective Gumshoe finished.

"So, do you have any idea who this anonymous tip was from?"

"No…it was anonymous. And the phone call was placed from a pay phone. We got the call records."

"Detective. Doesn't this seem suspicious to you? Someone places an anonymous tip to the police and you find the murder weapon in a place that you searched at the time of the murder and found nothing. Doesn't that sound like someone trying to frame the defendant?"

"Objection!" Wright winced. Well, it had been a bit much to hope for, he supposed. Edgeworth continued, "you've already said you have no proof that your client was framed, but you continued to weave these tales of fantasy for the court!"

"Objection!" Wright returned. "At that time, I didn't know about the anonymous phone call. That piece of evidence only supports my theory. My client was framed!"

"Mr. Wright," began the Judge solemnly. I have cautioned you once about making statements without evidence. Do you have any evidence to support your theory that someone is framing your client?"

Wright paused, holding his breath. He looked across at Edgeworth, who was watching him intently. He did have one piece of evidence. Evidence that more was going on in this case than met the eye. He had no choice but to present it.

"Yes, your honor, I do have some new evidence," Wright said, his eyes on Edgeworth, who seemed to be sweating now. "The prosecution would tell you that Rick Sextant was murdered by Mr. Finelli due to a disagreement over the future of their band, but I have evidence that shows the true nature of this murder! I have evidence that Mr. Sextant was actually…a blackmailer!"

"What?" said the Judge.

"What?" said Detective Gumshoe.

"What?" said Maya.

"…" said Edgeworth.

"Your honor, I have here a notebook that was found in a hidden compartment of Rick Sextant's favorite guitar. It contains many entries that are written in code, but that document payments received by the victim. There's only one reason for Mr. Sextant to keep track of payments made to him in this secret way: to hide the real way he paid for his mansion and his expensive cars…Blackmail!"

The courtroom burst into excited murmuring.

"Order! Order!" The Judge banged his gavel. He studied the black book Phoenix had submitted. "Mr. Wright, are you saying you can read this gibberish? Can you tell us to whom these codes refer?"

Wright froze. He felt Edgeworth's eyes on him. The truth was, he had broken at least one of the codes. He could name one of the victim's of Rick Sextant's blackmail. Phoenix looked at the prosecutor across from him. His eyes locked with Edgeworth's. He took a breath to speak.

"Objection!"

Phoenix nearly choked. It was Edgeworth who had shouted into the silence.

"Your honor," continued Edgeworth. "There is no evidence that these scribblings relate to blackmail. The defense has made a leap of logic in advance of the facts. Again."

"Mr. Wright," said the judge warningly, "I'll ask you again. Can you show the court the meaning of these codes?"

"Your honor," Wright began, with no clear idea where he was going. "I believe these codes are based on the addresses of people whom Mr. Sextant was blackmailing. If that is the case…one thing is clear. This evidence requires investigation! I request a recess in order to determine whether the victim was in fact a blackmailer!"

"Your honor!" said Edgeworth, visibly relaxed. "The prosecution agrees that further investigation is necessary."

"Hmm, very well then. If you are both agreed. This court will adjourn until tomorrow morning." Phoenix slumped with relief. He hadn't had to name Edgeworth after all. And he had a whole day to find out the truth behind this case!

**Part IV: Investigation, Day Two: June 28, 11:54AM, District Court, Defendant's Lobby.**

"Mr. Wright! Dude! I was really worried there for a minute!" said Lars. "But you were great! You came up with all that stuff about blackmail. Where did you get that from?"

"What do you mean, Lars?"

"You mean it's true? Rick was a blackmailer? Why didn't I know that?"

"Maybe you didn't have anything to keep secret!" suggested Maya. "After all, it's only people who've done really bad things that get blackmailed, right Nick?"

"Umm, maybe," Phoenix turned suddenly at the sound of a familiar cough. "Oh, umm, Edgeworth!"

"Wright," Edgeworth looked angry. "I need to speak with you. Regarding your careless actions in court today. In my office. Now." He turned away quickly, giving every impression of fury.

"Nick! What? What did you do to Edgeworth?" asked Maya. "I've never seen him so mad before! Well, I have, but not…recently."

"I don't know, Maya. I guess I better go see what he wants." Phoenix mumbled his excuses as he rushed away in the direction of the prosecutor's office. He wondered if Edgeworth was really mad. I mean, I didn't bring up his name, right? Surely he's happy about that?

**June 28, 12:15PM- Prosecutor's Office**

"Come in, Mr. Wright. Close the door" Edgeworth was again seated at his desk with his back to the door. Phoenix was reminded strongly of the last time the two had been alone in Edgeworth's office. Things between them had seemed so…friendly then. Wright wished they could go back to laughing and sharing a drink.

"Edgeworth?" began Phoenix, edging closer to the desk.

"Sit down, Mr. Wright." Edgeworth's voice could have frozen water. "You asked me several questions yesterday, which I refused to answer. I have realized this may be an inconvenience in your investigation. I will give you certain pieces of information which I hope will forestall any further attempts by yourself at pursuing the connection between myself and the victim. Are we agreed?" Edgeworth still had not turned to face Wright.

"Wait. So, you're asking me not to investigate anything concerning you, if you tell me what you know? How do I know you'll tell me everything?"

"I won't be telling you everything, Wright. That's the entire point." Edgeworth's voice cracked with frustration. "But I guarantee that not knowing what I won't tell you will not harm your case."

"Wait…what?"

Edgeworth spun around to face Phoenix, finally. "It's not relevant to this murder, Wright. Have you got that?" He paused, then continued, more quietly. "You're right. Sextant was a blackmailer. He used his position to get compromising information about people and then he demanded money in exchange for not releasing that information to the press. I've been paying him every month for two years." Wright opened his mouth to interrupt, but Edgeworth cut him off. "And before you bother asking, no, I won't tell you what information he has about me. Suffice it to say that it is not relevant. I do know that Sextant has evidence against me. I don't know where he stores this evidence, but I must find it before someone else does!"

"What…kind of evidence?" asked Phoenix. "And…just so we're clear, are we talking about something illegal, immoral, or…what?" Edgeworth dropped his head into his hands.

"Wright. I'm trusting you with my reputation, which, as you know, is already tarnished. You could have named me today in court, and you didn't. I am grateful for that." Edgeworth sounded as if each word was painful for him. "Will you trust me in return? If it helps, it was nothing illegal."

Phoenix pondered all of this for a few seconds. He didn't want to be in this position. He didn't want to have to choose between his friendship with Edgeworth and winning his case. In fact, if it came down to it, he wasn't sure which he would choose. Despite his own burning curiosity about this man whom he had called everything from rival to friend, he had no choice but to trust him and give up his search for the truth behind Edgeworth's blackmail.

"Yes. Fine. I'll trust you. And I'll do everything I can to make sure your name stays out of it. But…if you do find any more evidence of the blackmail, something that might be related to this case, you will share that information with me? Agreed?"

"Yes, fine," agreed Edgeworth. The two men looked at each other for another moment, before Wright finally stood to leave. Halfway to the door, he paused.

"Edgeworth?"

"Yes?"

"You're welcome," said Phoenix, and then left the office.

**June 28, 1:37PM- Police Headquarters, Homicide Division**

"Now pal, that wasn't fair!"

"Detective! What are you talking about?"

"You know what I mean. Keeping that evidence secret until court and surprising everyone with it. You should have shown it to the police!" Gumshoe was getting red in the face and starting to sweat even more than usual.

"How is this different from every other trial?" Detective Gumshoe was silent for a bit.

"Fair point."

"Besides, Detective, I do have some information for you. Yesterday I happened to find a secret closet in Rick Sextant's study. And in this closet, is a locked safe. You get your safe-experts to open it up, and maybe we'll all understand more about this case."

"Nick!" hissed Maya. "I thought you were going to tell him about that last night!"

"Shh! I didn't have time." Detective Gumshoe was watching them curiously. "Well, Detective? Think you can get that safe open?"

"Sure, pal. Could have done it earlier if we'd been told." With a final squint at them, Detective Gumshoe hurried away.

**June 28, 2:25PM, Wright and Co Law Offices**

"So, Maya, did you get those addresses?"

"Well, I got some…" Maya handed Phoenix a piece of paper from a yellow legal pad. "I found Larry Finelli, and Skip Parker. They're both in the phone book under their real names. But Guy Sullivan isn't listed and neither is Tammy Linder."

"I thought Tammy lived at Rick's house," said Phoenix.

"Well, I still checked, like you told me." Wright compared the addresses Maya had found with the entries in the black book, but found no matches.

**June 28, 2:59PM- Home of Rick Sextant, Office**

Phoenix and Maya found the room nearly full when they arrived. Gumshoe and several other policeman were huddled in front of the previously hidden door. Phoenix could just make out a man dressed in a brown suit kneeling inside the closet, working at the safe. Wright gave a small jerk as he noticed another figure standing behind the group: Edgeworth. The prosecutor was the first to notice their arrival and he nodded sharply at Phoenix.

While he was still debating whether to greet Edgeworth, and how, Wright's attention was drawn to the man in the closet, who gave a yelp of excitement.

"Got it!" cried the safecracker. The policemen all crowded forward, trapping the small man against the back of the closet. Phoenix couldn't see past them to the safe, but from their exclamations he gathered they had opened it and found something impressive inside.

"What did you find?" demanded Edgeworth, a slight quaver in his voice.

"M…money!" replied Gumshoe. "LOTS of money!"

"Is that all?" asked Edgeworth quickly.

"Mmm, yup. Money, money, and more money." Wright kept his eyes on Edgeworth, who visibly relaxed.

"Very well. Still no hard evidence of blackmail, then, Wright." He looked up at the defense attorney who stared back at him silently.

"There's always testimony, Edgeworth. If we found one of the blackmail victims who would testify…" Edgeworth's eyes narrowed at this.

"That isn't very likely, is it?" he responded.

"I guess not," said Wright.

Edgeworth strode out of the room at that. Wright sighed. He wasn't sure what his next step should be. _Time to retrace my steps._

**June 28, 3:28PM- Detention Center**

"So, Lars, what can you tell me about the syringe and morphine-bottle that was found in your coat pocket?"

"Man, I don't know where that stuff came from! I'd never seen it before, I swear! I don't mess around with needles, too icky." Lars' eyes were wide and sincere.

"Alright. I believe you. So, tell me more about the night of the murder. You found Rick, dead, Tammy came in and started screaming, the police arrived, what then?"

"Well, the police questioned me and Tammy separately and they really grilled me, man. They searched me, like you said, and they didn't find nothing. I don't know where that stuff came from!"

"Ok, ok. What happened then? They let you leave?"

"Yeah. They said I could go home, and took my address and stuff. They said not to leave town. I heard one of the guys say it was a drug overdose and I felt so bad for Rick." Larry really did look sad.

"And you went straight home? You didn't see anybody else?" asked Phoenix, looking for any opportunity he could use.

"No, man. I just went home and, well, I had a drink, for Rick…I was a little drunk when Guy came by."

"Guy?" asked Wright sharply.

"Yeah, Guy Sullivan, from the label, you know."

"Yeah, I know. What was he doing there?"

"He had heard about Rick. He came over to see if I was alright."

"Really? What time was that?"

"Oh, it must have been almost 4:30 by then."

"Four-thirty in the morning and he came over just to check on you? Are you…close with Mr. Sullivan?"

"Oh. No. Not really," replied Lars, starting to look puzzled. "Actually I was surprised, but like I said, I was pretty hammered by that time. He was real nice, though. Looked torn up about Rick. Said it was a tragedy."

"Larry, this is important," Wright began urgently, "Where was your coat when Guy Sullivan came over that night?"

"My coat? You mean you think he…no. No way. He and Rick were friends. Before I ever knew Rick, they were tight. Guy didn't kill Rick."

"Ok, but, humor me, ok? Where was your coat?" Wright repressed the urge to strangle his own client, an urge that he experienced surprisingly frequently.

"It was in the hall, hangin' up," said Larry grudgingly. "But Guy still didn't have anything to do with it. Look how much money Rick made for him!"

_Yes_, thought Phoenix, _but how much money was he losing to Rick?_

 

**June 28, 6:45 PM- Home of Rick Sextant, Office**

"Ok, Maya, there's got to be something here that we've missed," said Phoenix.

"And the police have missed. And Edgeworth," added Maya.

"So…what is it? Where does he keep his blackmail evidence if not in the safe?" asked Wright after a moment of looking around at the same contents of the room.

"You think it's somewhere else in the house? Or not in the house at all?" asked Maya.

"No. I think it's here. Rick wasn't protective of any other place like he was of this room."

"Ooo. Nick!" called Maya from behind the desk, "What about the computer? Maybe there's a clue on there!"

"Nope. Apparently, Edgeworth had them check it. The hard drive's been erased."

"ERASED?" Maya looked shocked. "I didn't know you could erase a computer!"

"Maya, what DO you know about computers?"

"Oh, right. But…that's it then, right? He kept the evidence on the computer and the killer erased it. Right?"

"Maybe…" said Nick scratching his head, "but if you depended on that evidence for your blackmail money, wouldn't you keep a copy around somewhere?"

"I don't know, Nick. I mean, if I were a blackmailer, I'd be rich and probably have a big bank vault to put it in. Hmm, so, Nick…how much would you pay me not to tell the world your secrets?"

 

"What?" shrieked Phoenix. "What secrets?"  
"Oh, you know, your deepest, darkest secrets…like how much time you spend plucking your eyebrows and getting your hair to stand up like that every morning!"

"MAYA! How do you know about that?" Phoenix laughed nervously. "Besides, that's not really an important secret…"

"Right, so you wouldn't care if everyone knew how much you spend on hair gel?"

"Stop it. Right now!" Wright glared at her. "I have to look nice…in court, you know."

"Oh, yeah, whatever you say, Nick." Maya winked at him. "Just remember that the next time I want to go out for a burger!"

"Noted." Great…Remind me not to give Maya anymore ideas… "Get back to searching."

"For what?"

"Anything. " Phoenix went back to rifling through Rick Sextant's desk drawers. _ Does she think hair this spiky just happens?_

"Ooooo, Nick!"

"What? Did you find something?" Nick rushed to her side.

"Yeah!" Maya was examining Rick's CD collection. "It's the Steel Samurai Soundtrack! Part 17!" She held up the case. "I don't have this one! You think anyone would mind if I…borrowed it?"

"Maya! You're supposed to be looking for evidence, not looking for CDs to steal!"

"It's not stealing! I mean, it's not like he'll be needing it." Maya was examining the inside of the case now. "Hey! He must have the deluxe edition or something. It's two CDs!"

"Put that back this instant!"

"Wait, Nick…this isn't right. This second CD is blank."

"What?" Phoenix reached for the case in Maya's hand. She had removed the CD from the inside, revealing another disc underneath. This disk had no writing or printing on it.

"What is it, Nick? Did I find something?"

"I don't know. It could have anything on here. Maybe he was just really bad at organizing his CDs." Phoenix turned the blank disc over and over in his hands.

"Uh-uh. Do you see these shelves? Everything is alphabetical. This guy was a real collector," Maya said authoritatively.

"Hmm, I wonder…" Nick looked around the room. "Let's see if it has music on it." He walked to the surround sound system to his right. After some fiddling, he found both the power button and the tray open button. He inserted the mystery disc into the player and closed it. While he looked for the play button, he noticed the digital display start to flash "Cannot Read Disc."

"I guess it's not a music CD, then." He stood in the middle of the room, tapping his toe for a few seconds. "The computer! That should read anything."

He rushed to the desk and turned on the computer. Maya moved to stand next to him, blocking his view of the screen. "Maya! You're in the way! Move over to the other side of the desk for a minute, will you?"

"Fine. But the computer was my idea, originally, remember?" Maya pouted.

"Sure. Whatever. Just give me a minute." Phoenix inserted the disk and clicked to view it's contents. "Yes! Looks like there's photos on here! Maya! This is it!" Phoenix clicked on the first file. It took a few seconds to load. A grainy, black and white image appeared slowly on the screen. As soon as it had loaded, Phoenix gasped and flailed for the power button of the monitor. Just in time, he switched it off as Maya leant over to look.

"Nick! What is it? Nick?" Maya was reaching for the monitor, confused.

"Maya. You…don't want to see this, ok?" Phoenix hit the eject button on the computer's CD drive. "Just…don't ask questions and don't complain. Trust me. You don't want to see this."

"Nick! But…is it what we need? The evidence?" Maya looked almost scared, shocked at Phoenix's behavior.

"Hmm, maybe. It's a clue. But..I need you to go home, ok? I've got something I have to do by myself. Will you trust me, Maya?" Maya looked at Nick seriously for a moment, then nodded.

"Ok, I'll go. Just, be careful, ok, Nick?"

"I will. It'll be ok, Maya, I promise." Phoenix smiled at Maya as he walked her to the door. She started towards home and Nick turned in the opposite direction. He needed to clear his head with a long walk.

He had been keeping himself together in front of Maya, but now, as he thought of the photo on that disc…his heart was pounding and his face burned. _And that was only one of several pictures on the disc. _ He had to see what else was on there.

 

**June 28th, 7:25PM- Wright and Co Law Offices**

Phoenix stared at the screen of his computer, flicking from one photo to another. He couldn't believe what he was looking at. For one thing, he'd never really seen pictures…like that. Well, not…of two men. Rick Sextant, naked, and engaged in various…sex acts. With Miles Edgeworth.

Wright suddenly turned off the monitor in disgust. With the pictures, with himself for having seen them, with Rick Sextant for taking them and then, blackmailing Edgeworth with them. Edgeworth! Phoenix found it too difficult to believe. But he couldn't deny the truth of it after having seen the photos.

He knew he needed to talk to Edgeworth. Tell him what he'd found. Destroy the disc, give it to him, something…but he couldn't stop his mind from spinning in out of control circles. _ Edgeworth! In Bed! Naked! With Sextant! With a man! Edgeworth, the calm, collected, driven…in bed! Edgeworth!_ And so forth.

Phoenix hung his head in his hands and tugged his fingers through the stiff spikes of his hair.

Finally, in cowardice, he picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Edgeworth? It's..it's Phoenix. I mean, Wright." A pause.

"Wright. I would prefer speaking face to face about…anything."

"Oh, umm, right, well, I… can't. But, listen. I found the evidence!"

"What!"

"Umm, yeah, well. I found where he was keeping it. It's on disc. Hidden in the cases of his CD collection. I don't know how it's organized, but I bet it has to do with the letters and numbers in the black book."

"How do you know?"

"I found a disc by accident."

"Are you there now?"

"Me? No! Umm, no, I didn't know what was on the disc, and I just found out…and…so, you need to go and find…whatever is there."

"Ok. Does anyone else know?"

"Umm, no. No. Just me."

"Wright? What did you find on that disc?"

"Oh, nothing…I mean, nothing…relevant. . . Dirty pictures, if you must know."

"Not featuring anyone we know?"

"No! Well, I mean, Sextant… Anyway, I've got to go. Call me if you find anything…relevant. Please."

". . . Sure, Wright. I'll call."

Phoenix ended the call and gave a sigh of relief. He should have told Edgeworth. Should have told him he had the pictures Edgeworth most wanted to find. But, he simply couldn't. Couldn't tell him that he had seen…

_Now what?_ Phoenix asked himself. _Whoever killed Rick Sextant was being blackmailed. The killer will be on a disc somewhere. In pictures? The same kind of pictures as these? Was that what Rick did? Sleep with people, take pictures, and then blackmail them? Sleazy…But why? He was already successful…unless…unless that's how he got his success! Sullivan. It has to be._

Phoenix's mind was racing. Yes, it made sense. Now he just had to hope that Edgeworth came through with the evidence in time!

**June 29th, 9:13AM- District Court, Defendant's Lobby**

"Nick!" Maya was waving from the other side of the room when Wright entered the lobby. He headed towards her. "Ew. You look horrible. Didn't you get any sleep?"

"Oh, thanks, Maya. Actually, no, I didn't get a whole lot of sleep. I was working, obviously."

"Mr. Wright! Please tell me it's good news! You found the killer, right?" Lars Fine, aka, Larry Finelli was looking ragged himself.

"Calm down, Lars. Look, everything will work out. Trust me."

"You mean it! Really? Dude! You're the best!" Lars launched himself at Phoenix and wrapped his arms around him. As he tried to disentangle himself from his overeager client, Wright looked over his shoulder and noticed Edgeworth lingering by the doorway. Managing to separate himself from Lars, Wright hurried over to the prosecutor.

"Edgeworth!" Phoenix hissed. "I was waiting for your call!"

"Wright! Shush. Follow me." Phoenix followed behind the other man, who slipped into the hallway and furtively ducked into a dark office. As soon as Phoenix slipped through the door, Edgeworth shut it behind him.

"Here." Edgeworth pressed a CD case into Wright's hands.

"What is it?" Phoenix could hear the other man's sigh of exasperation.

"It's your case, Wright. I've won your case for you. Are you happy?" Edgeworth's voice sounded strained and exhausted.

"It's…is it…" Phoenix didn't know what to say.

"See for yourself," said Edgeworth, grabbing the disc back from Wright. He pulled Wright behind the small desk in one corner of the dark office. Phoenix watched as Edgeworth turned on the computer and pulled up the first picture.

"Oh, god!" Phoenix couldn't help himself. He had been right. But the photo was…graphic.

"Not the most flattering picture," commented Edgeworth.

"Ugh. No." Wright eyes were still glued to the monitor.

"Does it bother you?" asked Edgeworth. Phoenix made a face and then looked quickly at the man next to him.

"Oh, well, umm. Yeah. That. Yeah…umm." Phoenix trailed off, eyes locked with Edgeworth.

"You lied to me," said Edgeworth calmly. Wright held his gaze but began to back away from him, slowly.

"No!" He put his hands up and backed up a few more steps. "No."

"Don't lie again!" Edgeworth was on his feet and face to face with Wright in one movement. "I know that you lied last night. I've spent all night in that house going through every one of those CDs." Wright continued to move backwords. "I cracked the code. I know where the disc I WANT should have been, and I know it was removed." Edgeworth continued to press closer to Phoenix. "It was the only one missing. Which means that YOU TOOK IT!" Wright back hit the wall then and he had no where else to go. Edgeworth was inches from him, glaring at him with his hands braced against the wall on either side of him. Phoenix noticed a muscle in Edgeworth's jaw was jumping, and then he noticed something else. Behind the fury and the rage in his eyes, Edgeworth was afraid.

Phoenix realized he was shaking, and that the pain in his lip was because he was biting it. He let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding and let his head drop.

"I'm sorry. Yes, I lied."

"WHY?" Edgeworth's breath hit his cheek with unbelievable force. Wright kept his head turned away but felt his shoulder's grasped hard.

"Because…I didn't know what to say, alright?" Wright pushed away from the wall, breaking free from Edgeworth's grip. "I didn't expect that! I saw what it was. . . it was a complete accident. What was I supposed to have said?"

"You could have saved me a night of frantic anxiety! You could have said the disc was safe!"

"It is safe. I have it. Not here," he said to Edgeworth's gesture. "It's safe, though. I promise. You can have it." Wright took a deep breath. "Look, we'd better get in there. This isn't over." He turned to the door.

"Don't forget your evidence," said Edgeworth behind him. Wright turned and took it from him. Edgeworth didn't meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry," said Phoenix. "I mean it." The other man looked at him.

"It was a mistake," Edgeworth said quietly.

"I'm sure," replied Wright.

 

Part V: Trial, Day Two

**June 29th, 10:01AM, District Court, Courtroom No. 3**

"Court will now reconvene," began the Judge. "Mr. Edgeworth, I hope progress has been made in this investigation?"

"Yes, your honor. The prosecution calls Detective Gumshoe back to the stand to present new evidence." Edgeworth was calm and watched impassively as the detective shuffled into place.

"Detective, would you tell the court what was found in your investigation yesterday."

Gumshoe cleared his throat. "We searched the victim's home again and discovered a locked safe in the closet of his office. Upon opening the safe, we discovered it was full of money. They counted it and it was over a million dollars! We didn't find any evidence of blackmail."

"Hold it!" cried Wright. "Detective, you said you find an amazing amount of money in this safe. Don't you think that is suspicious?"

"Well, I dunno about suspicious. It's strange, but musicians are usually pretty strange."

"It would be strange for someone to keep that much money in a safe and not put it in a bank, unless he had something to hide, don't you agree?"

"Objection!" shouted Edgeworth. "It's not illegal not to keep one's money in the bank, and the mere fact that the victim had a lot of money is evidence of nothing! There is no evidence that this money came from blackmail."

"Objection! The amounts documented in this notebook are evidence that the victim was receiving secret payments."

"Mr. Wright," said the Judge, "you continue to make accusations of blackmail against the victim. Do you have any evidence or testimony that will prove your claims?"

Wright felt himself starting to sweat. He did have evidence, more than he really wanted. He looked at Edgeworth, who was watching him intently.

"I believe there is a witness whose testimony will make everything clear, your honor."

"W..Who is it?" asked the Judge eagerly.

"Yes, Wright, who IS this witness?" asked Edgeworth with a note of warning.

"Guy Sullivan, president of Monumental Music." The courtroom burst into a flurry of whispers and murmurs.

"Order!" cried the Judge. "Mr Edgeworth, do you have any objection to this witness?"

"No, your honor," Edgeworth said truthfully.

"Bailiff, will you fetch Mr. Guy Sullivan to testify, please. In the meantime, we will take a brief recess."

**Twenty Minutes Later…**

"Will you state your name and occupation for the court?" asked Edgeworth.

"Sure," said Sullivan with an oily smile, "Guy Sullivan, President of Monumental Music."

"Mr. Wright, this is your witness, I believe?" Edgeworth smirked at Wright. It was a fairly usual expression for the prosecutor to wear in court, but in this case, Phoenix imagined it had a slightly different meaning.

"Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth," Wright smirked back.

"Mr. Sullivan." Wright paused, trying to look his most intimidating. "Can you tell the court where you were and what you were doing on the night of Rick Sextant's murder?"

"Oh, well, I was at home, naturally. Asleep."

"Can anyone attest to that?" pressed Wright.

"N..no. Of course not. I live alone."

"And you didn't have any company that night?"

"What are you implying?" Sullivan was on edge. Good, thought Wright. "No, I was alone."

"Were you at home all night?" asked Wright.

"Oh, yes, of course."

"Hold it! Mr. Sullivan, that is not a true statement! You did leave your home that night, didn't you?"

"What? No, I was home the whole time!"

"So, how is it that you visited the defendant, Larry Finelli, at his home the night of the murder?"

"OH. That. Well, after I heard…you know, Tammy called me to tell me about Rick's murder and I naturally couldn't sleep. I went over to Lars' place to make sure he was ok. I heard he found the body, after all."

"What time was it then?"

"Oh, nearly five AM, I suppose. I'm not really sure."

"And since you were so concerned about Mr. Finelli, did you also visit Tammy Linder and Skip Parker?"

"Umm, no," Sullivan paused, then smiled widely at the room. "I didn't want to disturb Tammy after everything she'd been through, and I didn't want to wake up Skar with the news. He could find out in the morning."

"So you were in the Lar's apartment between the time of the murder and the time of his arrest. Namely, Mr. Sullivan, during the time when someone placed the murder weapon in my client's pocket!" Murmuring filled the courtroom.

"No!," cried Sullivan. "What? No. I…I didn't…how would I have…Are you trying to say I killed Rick!?!"

"Did you, Mr. Sullivan?" asked Wright, calmly.

The witness stared at the defense attorney for a long moment. "No," he answered finally.

"Mr. Sullivan. Could you tell us about your relationship with the victim?"

"Relationship? With Rick? Well, I signed him to Monumental Music, you know. I was…a mentor to Rick when he was starting out. Unfortunately, as Rick's fame grew, he became distant. I had very little contact with him towards the end…except professionally, of course."

"Hold it! Mr. Sullivan, why did you sign Rick to Monumental Music?"

"Why? Well, naturally, his talent. He was very talented."

"Really? So there wasn't any other reason?"

"What other reason would there be?" bellowed Guy Sullivan.

"It's simple, Mr. Sullivan." Wright paused for dramatic effect. "You signed Rick because he asked you to. And because he was blackmailing you!"

"NO!" shouted the witness. "Blackmail? That's ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. You can't just keep accusing me of things… You have no proof!" Wright ignored this last part.

"Rick Sextant was blackmailing you. And that's why you killed him!" The predictable gasp rose from the courtroom.

"Order!" The Judge banged his gavel. "Mr. Wright. You're accusing the President of Monumental Music of murder?"

"Umm, yes, your honor." Wright ran his fingers through his hair. "I am."

"Do you have any evidence?"

"As a matter of fact, your honor, I do."

"Well, what is it? Don't keep us waiting!"

"Your honor, I'm afraid the evidence I have is a little…shocking." He said, looking at Sullivan, who was clenching his hands tightly.

"Shocking…in what way?" asked the Judge.

"I have hard evidence that Rick Sextant was a blackmailer, that he was blackmailing Guy Sullivan, and that Mr. Sullivan is lying to this court."

"Well, then, present it!" The Judge was leaning forward over the bench in his eagerness to be shocked.

"WAIT!"

Everyone in the courtroom looked around for the source of this outburst. It was the witness.

"You don't need to present anything! This is all a joke, your honor! A mistake! This lawyer has misunderstood!"

"Misunderstood?" asked Phoenix incredulously. "I think it would be hard to misunderstand this particular piece of evidence, Mr. Sullivan. Do you know what evidence I'm referring to? Have you seen it?"

"I…I…yes. I know what it is." Sullivan slumped. "You don't need to show it. It's true, I was being blackmailed by Rick. He was a cold, cruel man. He tricked people into…situations, and then held it over their heads. I paid him for years."

"And that was the reason you gave him a record deal, the reason you found him a band?" asked Wright.

"Yes."

"And that was the reason you murdered him, wasn't it?"

"You have no proof."

"Are you sure of that, Mr. Sullivan?" The witness had gone from red to pale. The Judge was staring in fascination from Wright to Sullivan. Edgeworth stood silently, looking pained.

"Mr. Sullivan," began Wright, trying not to show his desperation. He only had one chance. "You did something foolish once, which you lived to regret. Rick Sextant tricked you, corrupted you, made you a fool. And he never stopped holding it over you. He demanded favor after favor, payment after payment. How much did you have to give him over the years? But finally, he asked for something you couldn't give, didn't he? And he threatened you with exposure. He threatened to send pictures to the press, didn't he? And you couldn't let him do that. You couldn't let him show THIS PICTURE!"

Phoenix Wright held up the print made from the disc Edgeworth had given him. He held it directly in front of Sullivan, trying to shield it from anyone else's view.

Sullivan recoiled as if struck, but only for a moment. Then he launched himself towards Wright, grabbing at the photo, at Wright himself, trying to strangle him, all the time screaming, "GIVE IT TO ME! That bastard Sextant! HA! Got what he deserved! I told him! I told him I wouldn't STAND FOR IT. I wouldn't TAKE IT anymore! He never new what hit him! Stupid, stupid boy! I'll kill you too, lawyer!"

Finally, the bailiff managed to restrain the music mogul and handcuff him. He was lead from the courtroom.

The Judge was staring wide-eyed at the photograph still clutched in Wright's hand. Phoenix hurriedly put it away.

"Erm. Yes. Well. Yes," stammered the Judge.

"Your honor?" interrupted Wright.

"What?"

"The verdict? For my client? Larry Finelli?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, of course." The Judge cleared his throat. "Not guilty!" he announced.

 

Part VI: Epilogue

**June 29th, 11:17PM, Wright and Co. Law Offices**

Phoenix Wright sat at his desk, staring at his monitor with his head resting on his hand. He was glad the celebrations of another win were over. He had tried to put on a good show for his client and for Maya, but in actuality he wasn't in a celebratory mood. He felt rotten. Sure, his client had been declared not guilty, but it was hardly due to his own efforts. Edgeworth had been the one to hand him the necessary evidence. It had been ridiculously easy. The shortest trial of his career, probably. And Edgeworth had achieved another failure. This was the second case in a row Edgeworth had helped him to win. Phoenix was starting to wonder if he could even win on his own anymore.

Plus, he also felt horribly guilty. Guilty for lying to Edgeworth, putting him through that night of suffering…guilty for sitting here now at his desk, looking at photos of Edgeworth's most shameful moment. Guilty for the prurient thrill, the voyeuristic pleasure, the titillation he felt looking at these. Ashamed of the questions these pictures had brought to his mind. Wright's increasingly disturbing train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a knock at his office door.

He switched the monitor off quickly. "Who's there?" he called.

"It's me," said the voice of Miles Edgeworth.

Phoenix covered his face with his hands for an instant before calling, "Come in."

Edgeworth opened the door into the dark room slowly. Phoenix couldn't see him clearly, as the only light in the room was the small lamp on his desk. He gestured for Edgeworth to come and sit down opposite him. As the other man did so, Wright could see his face. He looked worried, perhaps even nervous. Maybe awkward. Wright sighed. Edgeworth always was difficult to read.

"Sick of fruit punch, again, Wright?" asked Edgeworth, gesturing to the bottle of whisky next to Wright's keyboard. The bottle Wright had stopped to buy on his way back from the courthouse.

"Yeah, I guess so." He looked around his office. "If I knew where Maya had put the glasses, I'd offer you some. As you can see, I'm drinking straight from the bottle." Edgeworth gazed at the bottle for a moment.

"And this is always how you celebrate a win? Or only when I'm around?"

Wright looked at him, trying to find an answer. "Apparently, you're a bad influence." He reached for the bottle and took a sip, grimacing. He made something of a show of wiping the mouth off with a sleeve before solemnly offering it to Edgeworth. Surprisingly, the other man took the bottle from him and only paused slightly before drinking.

"Urgh. You have horrible taste, Wright." Edgeworth set the bottle back down, grimacing.

"I could say the same for you," said Wright, before he could stop himself. He looked away.

"Touche," said Edgeworth, quietly. Silence filled the room.

"But…" said Wright suddenly, "you keep winning my cases for me, and I suppose I'll have to overlook it." And he took a large swig of whisky. It was starting to taste…not bad.

Edgeworth gave a dry laugh. "I didn't win your case, Wright. You just sent me to do your dirty work."

"What?"

"You solved it," Edgeworth said. "You figured out the blackmail, most of the code, where the evidence was…you just had me look through all those horrible photos." Phoenix looked at his hands as he considered this. "I guess you naturally thought I wouldn't mind," added Edgeworth.

Wright didn't know what to say to that, but glanced at his black screen. "I didn't mean it like that."

"No? Probably not." Edgeworth leaned back in his chair. "You were shocked, though. Weren't you?" Wright felt his eyes on him. "You never imagined…too innocent."

"What do you mean? I…imagined…I mean, no… not…well, just…I guess…I was shocked." Phoenix looked anywhere but at Edgeworth. "I didn't expect…that. To be your secret. I mean, not that it means anything, really, I guess…" He closed his eyes in embarrassment. A long silence stretched between them. Then Phoenix broke the silence with an involuntary giggle. He opened his eyes to find Edgeworth staring at him openmouthed. This made him laughed harder. He buried his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry. It's…Maya. She almost saw the…pictures." He tried to stop smiling, but couldn't. "Talk about innocent…talk about shocked…She would have…died." Phoenix burst out laughing at the thought. Perhaps the whisky was getting to him.

When he pulled himself together, he looked up at Edgeworth, and then froze. Edgeworth was still staring at him openmouthed with a look of horror on his face. "Edgeworth?" The other man closed his mouth, but did not move otherwise. "Miles?" No response. "Hey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry to laugh, but…well, look, maybe I didn't handle it so well, but there would have been much worse reactions than mine, ok?"

Edgeworth continued to stare at Phoenix with an unsettling look. "Say something! Why am I doing all the talking here?" Wright threw at him finally.

"I thought you usually were content to babble on witlessly," said Edgeworth.

"Finally! That's more like it. God! It's a sad day when I'm grateful for your insulting me!" Wright looked at him and smiled, nervously. Edgeworth leaned forward, placing his elbows on Wright's desk. He looked at Wright as if trying to puzzle something out. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it.

"The disc?" he asked eventually. Phoenix felt this had not been what he was about to say.

"Oh. Right. Yes. It's…right here." He finished with a slight squeak. He leant down to press the eject button on his disc drive. The disc popped out and Wright held it out to Edgeworth with an apologetic look. Edgeworth snatched the disc from Wright's hands.

"What were you doing with it?" he demanded, standing suddenly. "Making copies of the files?"

"WHAT?" shrieked Wright, also standing. "What kind of person do you think I am?" He stepped around his desk towards Edgeworth and as he did, Edgeworth darted past him to lean over Wright's computer. Edgeworth switched on the monitor and Wright moved, trying to get between the screen and the other man. Edgeworth held his position, leaving Phoenix to press his weight against him, jockeying for position. The screen flared to life, now showing an error message reading "Error: please reinsert disc into F: drive." In the background was the photo Phoenix had been viewing when Edgeworth arrived. It was the most explicit of any of the photos and showed a slightly younger Edgeworth, naked, on all fours, a muscular and also naked man behind him, penetrating him. Rick Sextant.

Shame burned through Wright. He took several steps back, trying to put distance between himself and Edgeworth, but Edgeworth was quicker. He spun from the monitor and grabbed at Phoenix's collar, dragging him back to the desk. Edgeworth leaned into Wright as he spat, "WHAT WERE YOU DOING? TELL ME!" Wright had attempted to get as far from Edgeworth's enraged face as possible and he was now leaning backwards over the desk, only held upright by the grip Edgeworth had on his tie and shirt.

"Nothing! I swear, I wasn't! Edgeworth! I wasn't copying or anything! I wouldn't!"

"What is THAT then?"

"I was just LOOKING AT IT, ok?" Phoenix shouted back at him. "I was looking! I couldn't STOP looking! You caught me! I'm sorry! I…" Edgeworth abruptly let him go, and Phoenix fell back on the desk hard. He covered his face with his hands and tried to catch his breath. He heard Edgeworth move off and around the desk, heard the scrape of the bottle as it was picked up, heard the other man take a long drink. He heard a strange and sudden crack. Wright lay still on his desk, his feet dangling off the floor, his hands still covering his face. He was too scared to move. Too humiliated. Too ashamed. He listened to Edgeworth pace the floor, apparently stopping only to drink from the bottle every couple of turns. After what seemed a long while, he heard the clink of the bottle being set down across the room, and the flop of a body onto the sofa.

Wright slowly pushed up from the desk, looking directly in front of him. He pulled the desk chair back into its normal position from where it had been pushed against the wall. He looked very briefly at the screen, only long enough to exit from the error message and the photo viewer. He shut off the computer and the monitor.

"There aren't any saved copies of the pictures on the hard drive. You can check if you want to," he offered. He found the courage to look across the room, but all he could see was Edgeworth's motionless silhouette sitting in the darkest part of the room. Wright sat at his desk, wishing the bottle was still here, knowing nothing would make him go take it from Edgeworth. Finally, after an agonizing eternity, the other man spoke.

"I only have one question." Edgeworth's voice was once again calm and reasonable: his courtroom voice. Phoenix felt himself start to shake inwardly in fear of the question. He couldn't speak.

"Why, exactly, were you looking at that picture? Tonight, when I arrived, why, precisely, were you looking at it?" Edgeworth voiced his question slowly, enunciating clearly. Phoenix noticed his right hand start to tremble.

Why? Wright wanted to scream. _ If I knew why, I'd love to tell you,_ he thought. He buried his head in his hands and thought frantically. _What answer does he want? God, what answer doesn't he want? I don't even know all the possibilities of answers!_ Panic washed over him. Phoenix fought to keep his breathing even, fought even harder to keep his thoughts from flying out of his control. Possible answers flew through his mind:_ because I was disgusted; because it was like a train-wreck, I couldn't look away; because I felt so bad; because it turned me on; because I felt guilty; because I couldn't stop looking at you; because… _ Phoenix gave up. The thoughts slowed and then stopped. His mind felt empty, clear. He spoke, and didn't know what he was going to say.

"I don't know, Miles. If I did, I would tell you. Because I was confused. Because I didn't know what I thought of it, what I felt about it. Because it made me feel confused. Because I wanted to figure out what to say when I saw you. Because I wanted to be able to accept it when I saw you. Because I didn't want you to hate me. Because I didn't want to fuck up anything else with you. Because I couldn't stop looking. Looking at you. Because it turned me on. . . Fuck!"

Phoenix finished with a shout, burying his hand back in his hands and trying desperately to remember what he had just said, hoping some of it had merely been in his head.

As the silence dragged on, Wright started a sort of prayer in his mind,_ Please say something, please say something, please say something, oh please_. It didn't seem to be working. Then finally,

"Really?" asked Edgeworth, incredulously.

"What? Really what?" Phoenix felt the panic rising again. "THAT's what you say? Really?" Wright waited, breathing quickly, then made out the sound of laughter coming from the other side of the room. "Oh, now YOU'RE Laughing. Great. What the fuck?" The laughter got louder. "I can't believe you're laughing. And you've got the booze. Oh, forget it!" Phoenix got up and stomped over to the sofa, grabbed the bottle from the table and tilted it up, swallowing against the burn until there was nothing left. Then he fell onto the floor.

He sat there, arms around his knees, on the hard floor, looking up at Edgeworth who had started laughing again. He stared at Edgeworth furiously, angry at him for laughing, angry at him just for existing in the first place. And then he started to laugh too. Grudgingly, at first, and then helplessly, Phoenix Wright laughed until he fell over. Again. He laughed and Edgeworth laughed, until they were both gasping for air. When he had to stop laughing or he was going to be sick, Phoenix tried to sit up. He found he could only manage to sit up halfway, and then Edgeworth's hand grasped him and pulled him up to a full sitting position. Edgeworth did not let go once Phoenix was steadied. They looked at each other, holding hands, in the dark. Edgeworth continued to pull Phoenix up, until he was also sitting on the sofa and they were facing one another. Again, Edgeworth did not release Wright's hand.

Phoenix didn't know what to do in that moment. He felt he should say something, but had no idea what. He didn't know what the other man was thinking, or wanting. There was only one thing Phoenix could think of doing, and so he did it. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Edgeworth's, briefly, before darting back.

Edgeworth looked at him for a moment, then tilted his head in an unspoken question. Phoenix smiled and then bit his lip, unsure. Edgeworth smiled briefly himself, and then moved towards him, bringing his hand to Phoenix's face. Edgeworth's thumb brushed his bottom lip gently and Phoenix went breathless. He pressed forward and their lips met forcefully at first, and then more gently. Edgeworth tenderly kissed him, his hand at the back of Phoenix's neck, his mouth opening to taste. Wright responded fiercely, moaning softly into the other man's mouth. Lips and tongues collided, hands grasped, and their bodies pressed more tightly together. Eventually, Phoenix couldn't catch his breath and he pulled back for air. Edgeworth let him go, sitting back, watching him. Phoenix took deep breaths to steady himself. He looked up at Edgeworth, shyly.

"Miles?" he said.

"Phoenix." said the other man with a smile. Phoenix smiled back at him.

"More," he said and reached for Edgeworth again.


End file.
